


Mutually Assured Destruction

by Reioka



Series: Reioka's Tumblr Prompts [12]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexual Tony Stark, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 12:37:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10513917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reioka/pseuds/Reioka
Summary: Tony tries to be normal but finds he can't be. Bucky tries to be normal and finds he can't be, either.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my Tumblr. The prompts were: _Can you PLEASE PLEASE write something with ace Tony who is actually afraid of sex and doesn’t wanna have it. Ever. But he wants a loving relationship so bad it almost hurts. (it could be stony or thonyrhodey or winteriron? Just no poly, please) Thank you!!_ And: _I would kill for ace!Tony fic where he tries to push himself into sex and in the last moment, when he is already in bed with someone he’s like “no, I can’t, please stop” because he literally can’t do it._
> 
>  
> 
> This is the result. :) If there's anything else you think needs tagging, just let me know!
> 
> Also note: If you’re wondering why Bucky seems like such an asshole in the beginning scene, it’s because he thinks that Tony is actually straight and just using him as an experiment to sate his curiosity. This would hurt anyone, of course, but especially a bisexual former soldier with self-esteem issues because of his prosthetic, so he’s got a bit of an itchy trigger finger when it comes to being hurt. (Also self-destructive tendencies are a symptom of PTSD.) He also makes poor decisions when it comes to his mental health.

Mutually Assured Destruction

 

Kissing Bucky was good. Great, even! Tony liked kissing. He even liked making out. Especially when Bucky tilted his head and licked into his mouth at just the right angle. Tony whimpered into the kiss, clutching at his shoulders. He hadn’t expected that saying he was a little (a lot) out of practice would actually make Bucky want to kiss him more!

 

He couldn’t help the yelp that escaped his mouth when Bucky grabbed his ass with both hands and squeezed. “Buck-!”

 

“Your ass is amazin’, doll,” Bucky drawled, dipping his head to kiss and nip his neck.

 

Oh. Well, this was okay too! Tony didn’t mind having a hickey or… several. He kind of liked that it showed everyone that he was Bucky’s. Even if he did usually have to cover them up, _he_ knew they were there, and it was a good feeling. And he _did_ have a great ass. He was aware of that. Hell, there were fan sites dedicated solely to his ass. He supposed most people wanted to get a handful of it. And it wasn’t… terrible.

 

Tony tilted his head back and whined quietly at a particularly sharp nip of teeth. “Are you _trying_ to make me look like I was mauled?”

 

“Yeah,” Bucky purred. “Dating six months and people _still_ go after you. Gotta let ‘em know you’re taken.”

 

“Oh,” Tony said happily. Yes, that was good. Pepper couldn’t get mad at him for not covering up if it was too dark _to_ cover up. He hesitated before pressing a kiss to Bucky’s ear. When he heard a noise of encouragement, he nearly purred, taking his earlobe into his mouth and tugging gently.

 

Bucky groaned quietly, squeezing his ass again, then slid his right hand in further to press at the seam of his pants between his cheeks.

 

Tony jumped, stiffening. But that was fine. Everything was fine. They’d been dating for six months; it was natural for Bucky to want to touch him… there. He tried to relax again. It was _fine._

 

“Surprised how shy you are,” Bucky mumbled, pulling his hand back. “Would’ve thought you were used to this.”

 

Tony chuckled weakly, relaxing a little now that his hand had moved. “I guess.” Then he squeaked as the brunet began unbuckling his belt to get at the fly of his pants. “Bucky—”

 

“’s alright, hon’,” he soothed, peppering his face with little kisses. “Let me take care of you.”

 

“Okay,” Tony choked out, gripping the fabric of Bucky’s shirt in tight fists. This was… this was… fine. He would be okay. Bucky… Bucky would take care of him. Bucky was great. He was even really gentle as he pulled his jeans open and reached inside. Everything… everything would be fine.

 

Except Bucky was _grabbing his dick oh no oh no._

 

“No?” Tony said, unsure. He felt Bucky’s hand stop stroking but at the same time tighten around his cock and said again, more forcefully, “No. No. No! No no no!”

 

Bucky let go of him as if he’d caught fire. “Shit, Tony—”

 

Tony hit the floor next to the couch with a dull thud, scrabbling backward and babbling, “I can’t. I tried! But I can’t. No. I can’t. I _won’t_. I can’t!”

 

Bucky frowned, confused and a little hurt. “You can’t—have you never been with a man before?”

 

He hadn’t been with _anyone_ before. “No.”

 

Horrifyingly, the confusion left Bucky’s face, and it just left hurt and anger. “So, what? I was an experiment to you? To sate your curiosity?”

 

“No!” Tony choked out, breath coming in quicker. “I didn’t—I wasn’t—”

 

“You know, if you’d just been upfront with me, we could’ve gotten it over with six months ago,” Bucky snapped, standing. “I don’t mind a quick pawing session to set curious guys straight, but I don’t date people for six months just so they can see if they actually like dick. Why would you waste my time like that?”

 

“But I wasn’t,” Tony said desperately. “I wasn’t wasting your time, I just—”

 

“Just don’t want to have sex with me,” Bucky spat. “Because you’re not attracted to me. Yeah, I get that.”

 

Tony looked down at his clenched fists, trying to catch his breath. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Yeah?” Bucky looked like he was going to say something else, then just sagged, as if he was tired. “Me, too.”

 

Tony bit his lip and stared down at his white knuckles, trying not to cry. He couldn’t even bring himself to watch the other man storm out, flinching when he heard the door slam. He pressed his head to the wood floor and focused on breathing out, breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Bucky was probably never coming back. But it was his fault anyway.

 

He dug his teeth into his lip harder, trying to keep tears at bay, and sat up straight again. He tucked himself back into his pants with shaking hands. Well. This had lasted five months longer than he thought it would.

 

He didn’t… he didn’t _understand._ He knew that Bucky was attractive. He knew that he should like being intimate with him, should like touching and being touched. He knew that he should feel something other than disgust when he even _thought_ about sex. So why couldn’t he just put up with it? Keeping Bucky would have been worth the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

 

Tony sniffled quietly and wiped at his face. How pathetic. He was a grown man and he was still crying over this. He should have been used to this by now. Just because Bucky was the person he’d had the deepest feelings for didn’t mean he wasn’t used to people walking out on him because he couldn’t bring himself to put out. He wanted to do this for Bucky, _so much_ , and he couldn’t even do that. He was so selfish.

 

.-.-.-.-.-.

 

Tony didn’t check his phone until the next day, when he had stopped struggling to breathe every ten minutes after remembering Bucky’s angry expression.

 

Steve called first. Tony only got through the first part of the message, when Steve was yelling ‘what the _fuck_ , Tony’ before he ended the replay with shaking fingers. He figured all of the other messages would be variations of the same. Natasha, Sam, and Clint had called, too. They’d probably be just like Steve’s, loud and angry. He felt hot with shame.

 

Bruce called once. Just to ask if he was okay. Tony’s thumb hovered over the call back button, but then he decided against it. Bruce was friends with Natasha. He wouldn’t want to make it awkward for him.

 

Bucky hadn’t called.

 

Tony bit his lip and forced himself to take long, slow breaths. Why _would_ he call.

 

.-.-.-.-.-.

 

Bucky’s coat was hooked over the back of a chair in the kitchen. Or, well, it was probably Tony’s coat now. He’d stolen it so much that Bucky had finally laughed and stopped asking for it back. He should probably give it back to him now.

 

But maybe Bucky wouldn’t want it. Tony had worn it so many times, after all.

 

“You shouldn’t have said anything,” he whispered to himself, voice breaking. “It could have been fine.”

 

It would have been awkward, uncomfortable, but at least he’d still have Bucky.

 

.-.-.-.-.-.

 

Pepper stomped into the mansion and sighed angrily, shouting “Tony!” She got no reply. But that wasn’t unusual. Sometimes Tony would zone out while he was working.

 

She went down to the workshop and paused in confusion when she didn’t find him there. “…JARVIS? Where is Tony?”

_“Sir is in his bedroom, Ms. Potts,”_ JARVIS replied promptly. _“Please see to him.”_

 

So Tony was probably drunk. Great.

 

Pepper sighed as she pushed the door to his room open. “Tony, _what_ are you—oh honey,” she gasped quietly when she saw him curled up on the bed.

 

Tony’s hair was greasy, and it looked like he hadn’t changed out of his clothes in a few days. His skin was so sallow, and he looked so gaunt; she wondered when he’d eaten last. He peeled open his eyes to look at her, and they were so bloodshot that she wanted to weep for him. He hadn’t looked this bad since—since—she didn’t know. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him _this_ bad.

 

She approached the bed cautiously, reaching out to touch his shoulder. “Tony, honey? What’s wrong?”

 

“…I think I’m broken,” Tony whispered, closing his eyes again.

 

Pepper frowned and sat down on the edge of the bed, noticing the tear tracks on his cheeks up close. At first she’d worried that it might have something to do with his heart again, but now… now she knew it wasn’t anything so simple. “Why do you think that?”

 

“I don’t—” he started, then stopped, eyes going glassy. When she only waited patiently for him to continue, instead of trying to fill the silence, he tried again. “I don’t want to have sex. Miss Universe could walk in and offer me her body and I… I would just feel sick. What kind of person—there must be something wrong with me. Otherwise. Otherwise I would want that kind of thing. And then people would stay. Right?”

 

Pepper’s breath hitched. She’d noticed that he didn’t hit on her, like most of her bosses had. She hadn’t thought it was because—oh, Tony. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” she told him soothingly, wanting to cry, because who wouldn’t want this sweet man? “Some people just don’t want sex, and that’s okay.”

 

“Bucky said I was leading him on,” Tony explained, tucking his face into his pillow. “He said. He said if I was curious about men, we could have gotten this over with months ago. I thought… I love him. And I thought he loved me.”

 

Pepper reached up and ran her hand through his hair, wrinkling her nose at how gross it felt, but helpless in the face of wanting to soothe his hurt. “You weren’t leading him on.”

 

“I tried—I tried so hard. I was going to do it. Give him what he wanted. And then I chickened out. Just the thought of—I wanted to vomit. That. That’s not normal.”

 

She paused, then leaned closer to him, frowning. “…You were forcing yourself to have sex with him?”

 

“He’s,” Tony began, frowning. “I wouldn’t have been—he’s very attractive. Said he’d take care of me, even. It. It should have been. _I_ should have been—I’m revolted by the very idea. But I should have been—I love him, so I should have been able to do it anyway.”

 

“But you didn’t _really_ want to have sex,” Pepper summarized. “Tony, that’s not fair to you at all.”

 

Tony frowned, staring at the wall. “…I just wanted him to stay.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Pepper told him, because what else could she say? She’d seen Tony date, and he’d fallen hard and fast for each person, but Bucky had been something special. Bucky was Tony’s sun—Tony revolved around him, bragged about how smart and brave his boyfriend was. Pepper had believed that Bucky was probably going to be The One for Tony.

 

Right now she mostly just believed that she should find Bucky and kick his teeth in.

 

“Why don’t you take a shower, and shave?” she suggested softly. “It might help you feel a little better.”

 

Tony stood mechanically, because Pepper only ever wanted what was best for him. “Why can’t I be normal, Pepper?”

 

Pepper frowned at him, heart breaking. Usually she’d joke that there was a long list, but now was definitely not the time. “You _are_ normal, Tony. Your normal is just different from everybody else’s.” She watched his face crumple and felt like the worst person on Earth.

 

.-.-.-.-.-.

 

Tony was signing paperwork at the kitchen table, not up to going out, when he looked up at Pepper and said, “I think I’ll go home.”

 

“You are home,” she answered distractedly, glaring at a proposal on her tablet, before she blinked and looked up at him, confused. “…What?”

 

“Back to Malibu,” he explained. “Maybe if it were just Bucky, I… I can’t avoid Bucky and all of his friends at the same time.”

 

She blinked at him owlishly. “They’re your friends, too.”

 

Tony looked back down at the paperwork, fiddling with his pen. “…They chose their side.”

 

Pepper looked at his phone, still on the table next to that hideous leather jacket he’d stolen from Bucky. She picked it up and opened it, reading a few texts. Her expression went darker with every word. “I see.”

 

“It’s not like this mansion means anything to me,” he added, motioning around him. “And I—I can teleconference. You do most of the work here anyway. I can fax my paperwork over to you.”

 

The personal assistant part of her wanted to demand he stay here, do his job, and ignore Bucky and his friends whenever he saw them. The personal friend part of her won out, though, because anyone who could watch Tony fall in love and then fall apart without caring was a monster. “If that’s what you want.”

 

He wanted Bucky back. But Bucky had made it clear that he didn’t want him. “Thank you. You should probably give yourself a really big raise.”

 

.-.-.-.-.-.

 

Pepper brought him a new phone a few days later. He was just finishing packing, having put all his affairs in order. “I put Jim’s and my numbers in already,” she told him. “Because that’s all you really need in the end. Have you talked to Jim yet?”

 

Tony fiddled with the settings on his phone, frowning. “…I… I’m not in a good place to. Yet. I’ll tell him when… when it stops hurting so much.” He tilted his head. “…Or until I’m back in Malibu. It’ll be much harder for him to march out of the house to find Bucky and beat him to death if we’re in California.”

 

“That’s probably a good idea,” she conceded. She also wanted to find Bucky and beat him to death. Maybe she’d do it once Tony was gone.

 

He turned and finished zipping up a garment bag full of suits. “I don’t even know why I’m packing all of this,” he said suddenly. “I won’t need it. It’s not like I’ll be going to business meetings or anything.”

 

“You need to at least take the jackets,” Pepper insisted. “You can’t just teleconference with us in a beat up old tank top.”

 

Tony sighed and nodded obediently. “Okay.” He looked around the room, frowning. He really didn’t have anything of sentimental value here. Just a few suitcases and garment bags full of toiletries and clothes. If he didn’t know better, he would have said he’d been staying in a hotel. It had felt much warmer, and more like a home, when Bucky had been here with him.

 

Pepper grabbed two of his suitcases and sighed, frowning at him. “I hope this helps, Tony. Truly.”

 

“Me too,” he admitted, grabbing his garment and toiletry bags. “Thanks, Pepper.”

 

“Just make sure you call me when you bed down for the night,” she insisted over her shoulder as they went down the stairs. “Better yet, Skype me. I want to see your stupid face to make sure you’re really okay.”

 

“My face isn’t stupid.”

 

“It’s kinda stupid.”

 

“Well, okay.”

 

Dum-E and U were packed up on a trailer behind the car. They beeped and waved at him.

He waved back with the hand holding the toiletry bag. “Are you ready for another road trip, Dum-E? Hey, this is gonna be the first time for U. You take care of him, Dum-E,” Tony ordered sternly.

 

Dum-E beeped obediently and swiveled his camera around to U.

 

Pepper turned from depositing his suitcases in the back of the car, letting out a sigh. “…I’m gonna miss you, Tony.”

 

“Miss yelling at me in person, you mean,” Tony replied, smiling a little.

 

She stared at him for a moment, conveying that she was going to miss him for a lot more than that, before she said, “That too.”

 

Tony set his things down in the back of the car as well before wrapping her up in a hug. “Thanks,” he said, with all the sincerity he could muster. “I really do appreciate this, Pep.”

 

“Of course,” she said, burying her face in his shoulder. “I just want you to be happy.”

 

Tony took a moment to just appreciate that Pepper was in his life before he leaned back, giving her a sad smile. “Can you do one last thing for me?”

 

“Anything,” Pepper answered immediately.

 

He laughed quietly, because he really must have looked bad if she was giving him that open-ended answer. He turned and grabbed the leather jacket from the back of the car, turning to hand it to her. “Could you—I mean. I can’t. Keep this.” He stroked the supple leather with his thumbs, remembering the first time Bucky had put it around his shoulders, after he’d gotten soaked by a tearfully apologetic waitress. He wanted to keep it, but it didn’t—He wouldn’t—

 

It didn’t even smell like Bucky anymore.

 

Pepper took it from his hands, nodding. “Yeah.”

 

“Just return it to him.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“He’ll probably be glad to have it back.”

_He’ll be glad I don’t have it,_ he didn’t say, and Pepper felt white-hot rage flow through her. But that was okay. Tony couldn’t bring himself to be mad yet. She would be mad for him.

 

Tony smiled weakly. “Try not to scare the minions too much, Potts.”

 

“Don’t call them minions,” she ordered immediately. “And I’ll scare them all I like because they deserve it.”

 

Tony laughed for the first time in what felt like forever.

 

.-.-.-.-.-.

 

Bucky saw Pepper Potts approaching their table and wondered if she was coming to murder him. She looked mad enough. Had to be mad enough, really, if she was walking into a dive bar in designer clothes and heels. He took a moment to be happy that he was sharing a booth with his friends, because she couldn’t possibly kill all of them.

 

“Barnes,” she said coolly, coming to a stop beside the table. She held something out to him. “I believe this is yours.”

 

“Uh—” Bucky took the bundle, because she’d always scared him a little, but she especially scared him now. “I—Oh.” It was the leather jacket that he’d stopped asking Tony for. It had looked good on him. “Oh,” he repeated again, a bit dumbly. “Thanks.”

 

“If it were up to me,” Pepper continued, as if he hadn’t spoken, and her voice was like ice stabbing into him. “It if were up to me, I would have _ruined_ you. But Tony has always been too forgiving, too nice. I hope you’re happy,” she snarled, turning her gaze on everyone else at the table. “I hope you’re _really proud_ of yourselves.” She visibly tried to calm down, then burst out, “I hope you all _fucking die._ ”

 

“Pepper,” Natasha began, appalled, but also concerned. “Do you even know what—”

 

“I expected better from you. Do not speak to me,” Pepper hissed at her before turning back to Bucky. “I guess it doesn’t matter to you that he tried, that he was going to suffer in silence just so he could keep you. It’s not his fault that he finds even the idea of sex repulsive. And maybe one day he’ll find someone that doesn’t need sex to be in a relationship with him. I’m just sorry he had to suffer through _you._ ”

 

Bucky gaped up at her, confused. “Repul-?”

 

“It’s nice to know you’ve all shown your true colors though,” Pepper added coolly, turning her attention back to the rest of the group. “I thought you were Tony’s friends, but friends don’t have such low opinions of each other that they accuse someone of the things you did. I’m just glad that he will _never_ see you again. And if you have any self-preservation, you’d best make sure that _I_ don’t see you again either,” she added coldly, then turned on one high, high heel and swept away.

 

Bucky watched her go, feeling as if he’d been doused with ice-water. Tony had—Tony didn’t _like_ sex? At all? He didn’t—He’d liked the kissing, and the hickeys, and cuddling— _hadn’t he?_

Bucky swallowed, suddenly nauseated. Tony had never said—but why would he have said anything? They were taking it slow, Bucky had asked to wait to be intimate until he felt better about his arm, and Tony… Tony had looked relieved. And Tony had been so, so surprised when he’d leaned in and kissed him at the end of the sixth date. Had he even enjoyed that, or was he just putting up with that too?

 

He remembered the way he’d touched Tony that last time and nearly lost his battle to keep from vomiting. Tony had laughed it off even though he’d hated it. He didn’t—that’s not what a relationship was supposed to be like. When Tony had bashfully said ‘I’m a bit out of practice,’ Bucky had no idea that that meant he’d had _no practice at all._ Even if he hadn’t known about his repulsion to sex, if he’d known Tony was a virgin, their first time wouldn’t have been an attempted hand job on the _couch._

 

But he wouldn’t have liked that either. Because he didn’t want to be touched like that at all.

 

“Hey, man,” Sam said, frowning, and reached out to put his hand on the back of his head. “Breathe.”

 

Bucky let him ease his head down on the table, gasping in a breath. He’d been so afraid of being hurt, of having his boundaries pushed, that he’d never stopped to think that maybe Tony might have boundary concerns as well. All Bucky had been worried about was not having a flashback or panic attack because of his PTSD. And Tony had been so, _so_ supportive of him, had been the one to get him the advanced prosthetic, had donated more money to the VA than Bucky had earned his entire _life._

 

“Why didn’t he _say_ anything?” he asked quietly, even though he knew. Tony never asked for what he really wanted, let alone needed, especially if he thought it might upset someone.

 

And he’d just… just _left_ Tony there, said he’d led him on, and he’d seen how hurt and afraid Tony had been, and he’d turned his back on him anyway.

 

Bucky didn’t even try to swallow down the sick feeling that time, instead turning and puking directly onto the floor.

 

.-.-.-.-.-.

 

Steve helped him to bed. He could hear the others whispering out in the living room and he didn’t care. He felt shaky and tired, but also too wired to sleep. His thoughts wouldn’t stop—all he could think about were all of the clues he’d been too self-absorbed to see.

 

Tony being perfectly happy with holding his hand, and not moving to get closer. Tony pressing quick little kisses to his lips, too fast to be made into something deeper. Tony moving Bucky’s hands from his butt to his waist when they danced. Tony shivering and stiffening whenever Bucky pressed his chest to the smaller man’s back.

 

Tony suffering in silence because he was afraid to lose him.

 

Bucky reached out for the phone lying on his bedside table, flicking through it. Tony had never called. Then again, Bucky hadn’t exactly made him think he would accept one. He thought about texting him, but that would be the easy way out. He didn’t deserve the easy way out after how he’d made Tony feel. He hesitated with his finger over the call button before pressing it resolutely. Then he cringed when he heard a beeping noise.

_“We are sorry. You have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please check the number and try your call again.”_

 

Bucky blinked slowly, frowning. He pulled his phone back and furrowed his brows. He’d hit Tony’s contact icon. He hit it again, just to make sure, but he got the same beeping noise and then mechanical voice.

 

“Steve?” he croaked, forcing himself to sit up. “Steve!”

 

“Yeah, Buck, what?” Steve asked, poking his head into the room.

 

“Call Tony,” Bucky ordered, sliding into a sitting position and trying to find the energy to stand up.

 

Steve rushed in and put a hand on his shoulder. “Whoa, Bucky. Calm down. Can’t this wait until tomorrow?”

 

“No,” Bucky said, reaching up to grab his wrist. “You need to call him now.”

 

Steve sighed but obediently pulled out his phone. He knew they’d stopped calling and texting Tony a few days ago, because he hadn’t been answering anyway. He watched the blond’s face with rapt attention, seeing him raise his eyebrows in surprise, then furrow them in confusion. Steve was getting the same message he did.

 

“…Did he change his number?” Steve whispered, horrified. “Oh my God.”

 

“Pepper said that we were never going to see him again,” Bucky murmured, once again feeling like his veins were full of ice water. He tried to surge to his feet, but Steve pushed him back down. “Steve-!”

 

“Bucky,” Steve said sternly. “You puked your brains out and had a panic attack. As much as you want to go to him, you need to take care of yourself, too.”

 

Bucky wanted to punch him. He also kinda wanted to cry, because he knew Steve was right.

 

.-.-.-.-.-.

 

Despite being exhausted and still smelling like a drunk hobo threw up on him, Bucky was up and out of bed so early that the sun wasn’t even up yet. He changed clothes so he smelled less like vomit. He still kind of smelled like a bar, but that was okay. People kind of expected that at five o’clock in the morning.

 

He tiptoed out to the living room. Clint was strewn across the couch and covered in a blanket. He could hear that Steve and Sam were both snoring in their shared room. He’d known they would be, though. Before he’d realized he was an asshole and been shocked sober, they’d been getting a pretty good buzz on.

 

Natasha was sitting in the recliner, tapping on her phone. She glanced up at him for a moment before returning her gaze to the glowing screen. “Right, because turning up at his door smelling like a brewery is going to go over so well.”

 

“Steve wakes up whenever I turn the water in the shower on,” Bucky whispered back, annoyed. “And then he’d want to come with me because if there’s anything he does better than getting self-righteous, it’s getting super apologetic. I don’t know what you guys sent to Tony but Potts wants us all dead, so maybe just one person should see him at a time.”

 

“You’re probably right,” she conceded, nodding. “Good luck, dumbass.”

 

Bucky thought about giving her the finger, but she’d probably throw a knife at him and cut it off. Instead, he left the apartment and began walking toward Tony’s mansion. If he kept a steady pace, he could be there by six-thirty. He should probably take a cab, because if any of his friends found out he’d walked that far after last night they’d pitch a fit, but honestly… if he took a cab, he wouldn’t have as much time to think. And he needed to.

 

Somehow, their wires had gotten crossed somewhere. Bucky tried to parse where that had happened, when Tony had started to compromise (concede) and let Bucky touch him (put up with his touch).

 

Holding hands must have been fine, he decided. Tony was the one that instigated it the most after Bucky had tentatively touched their hands together during a walk in the park. In fact, getting him to _stop_ holding his hand had been a problem. Many cups of coffee had been sacrificed to Tony’s grabby hands. Bucky had almost _tossed_ Tony the first time he grabbed his metal one, and he hadn’t even been mad or upset, just sorry. Then he’d worked really hard to get him used to having his metal hand held.

 

Bucky’s heart twinged—Tony had been so accepting of all of him, even the missing parts.

 

There’d… definitely been a misunderstanding when they were dancing. They’d gone clubbing with the others, and Bucky had… gotten a little handsy. He hadn’t thought it had been too risqué; he’d just stuck his hands in Tony’s back pockets. And who could blame him? Tony’s ass was _phenomenal._ He’d seen fan sites dedicated solely to it. Tony had stiffened, but he’d assumed it was out of surprise—and then, when Tony had grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands back up to his waist, he’d looked at the smaller man’s blushing face and decided he was shy, or not into such public displays of affection.

 

In reality, Tony just really hadn’t liked it. Would have probably preferred it not happen again. And never said anything about it.

 

Bucky stopped walking for a minute to catch his breath. He had to calm down. He couldn’t afford another panic attack, especially when there was no one there to ground him. He was pretty sure if he collapsed, he’d be more likely to be robbed than he’d be helped. Okay. He just needed a minute.

 

He should have taken a fucking minute before he’d gotten pissed off and stormed out like a fucking _asshole._ No okay he was going to go into a panic attack. Okay. He could think about that when he got to the mansion. The lawn of the mansion. …The gate.

 

Bucky forced himself to put one foot in front of the other again. He needed to focus. Quite honestly he was pretty sure that as soon as Steve woke up and realized he was gone, he’d beat feet after him, because he never _could_ leave well enough alone. He needed to see Tony before Steve caught up to him. Or at least get onto the grounds before that. Steve hated using the code Tony gave him, so it would at least buy him some time.

 

He tried not to think about grabbing Tony’s ass and focused on other places he could have gone wrong. He had to fight not to physically cringe when he’d remembered three months ago, and he’d felt so comfortable with Tony. Felt so comfortable with _himself._ Tony had made him think that his prosthetic wasn’t as horrible as he’d thought, that the scarring on his shoulder wasn’t such a terrible thing, that he could actually be attractive despite not being the clean-cut man he’d been before the army. He’d never thought he’d be able to feel that way again. And in his vulnerability, he _wanted._

 

So he’d said, “I want to be with you,” and leaned in to kiss Tony right there in his living room, despite the fact that Steve or Sam could have been home any minute. Tony had kissed back _so_ enthusiastically, and the noises he’d made into his mouth had been beautiful. He’d wanted to press Tony down on the couch, but knew that if he didn’t at least make it to the bedroom and one of his friends came home, he would probably get his ass kicked, so he’d broken the kiss to suggest moving to the bed.

 

And Tony had looked up at him with a smile tremulous with hope and said, “I’ve never had someone ask me to be exclusive before.”

 

Maybe it had been a good thing that Bucky had been so shocked at the admission that he’d forgotten all about sex. He hadn’t been able to believe that someone could date Tony and not immediately want to keep him for themselves. Tony was precious. And looking back on it now, Tony obviously hadn’t even noticed it was a come-on.

 

It explained the time after that, a month later, when Bucky had said, “You ever think of bein’ closer?” And Tony had frowned at him like he was crazy and said, “I’m sitting in your lap? Oh my God. Are you talking about location? I am _not_ moving to Brooklyn. Your apartment is smaller than my closet.” Of course, Bucky had had to tickle him mercilessly to defend the honor of his home. Tony had accidentally punched him in the nose, and that had effectively ruined whatever mood Bucky had had left.

 

And Bucky… Bucky had just figured Tony was shy. Because no one could be that oblivious.

So two weeks ago, when he’d said, ‘let’s take the next step in our relationship…’ What had Tony thought he was saying? He’d looked so scared and thrilled at the same time, had even let out a delighted little squeak before he kissed him… What had Tony expected that made him so happy?

Bucky took a deep breath when he remembered how he’d reacted. Tony has said no, and he’d been so worried, but then he’d said ‘I can’t’ and ‘I _won’t_ ’ and Bucky had thought… he’d thought that Tony was finally admitting that he was actually straight. That he’d been experimenting with his sexuality and realized that Bucky disgusted him.

 

He’d always sort of wondered about it, even though he’d been happy kissing and cuddling. There was no mention of Tony dating men in the magazines or papers. Tony had explained it away, saying there were tons of celebrities that were in the closet because it was bad for their image or bad for business. Bucky himself had seen the way stocks had dipped when they were finally photographed together. Pepper had said it wasn’t enough to worry about, but it had still been an eye-opening experience.

 

And if Tony _had_ had male partners, he’d thought there was no way Tony could be as oblivious as he acted—he’d seen Tony glad-hand politicians so expertly that the guys didn’t even realize he wasn’t sincere, had steered conversations as easily as he steered his expensive cars. Bucky had wondered, maybe, if Tony was doing that to him, too. He’d never really been able to figure out a motive, but… he’d still been in kind of a dark place when they’d started their relationship, and the doubt had never really left, because why would someone like Tony, who was smart, attractive, and wealthy, want anything to do with him, an angry, self-conscious, and anxious war vet with a physical disability?

 

The loss of his arm in Afghanistan hadn’t even been his worst injury. He’d been tortured for days until Steve had come bursting in with the rest of the Howling Commandoes like some sort of fucking white knight—if white knights wore tactical gear and camouflage paint. The first months he’d spent in therapy had been their own kind of hell. It was even worse when he learned that Steve hadn’t reenlisted at the end of his contract, instead taking an honorable discharge so he could come take care of Bucky’s traumatized ass.

 

They had met at physical therapy, when Bucky had been getting ready for his prosthetic. Tony had been at the tail end of his therapy from surgery to repair an aneurysm in his heart, and had stuck around when he’d seen Bucky… sulking. Bucky realized now that he had been in no position to begin a relationship. Maybe he’d been looking for something normal when his life had felt all fucked up, something grounding when he constantly felt at sea.

 

Bucky loved Tony, deeply, with all of his heart—but the foundation of their relationship, at least on Bucky’s side, had been built while floundering for something stable, and he’d been unconsciously waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the crumbling brick in the foundation that would send the whole thing crashing down. Tony had shown he loved him despite his flashbacks, his prosthetic, and his bouts of irritability and agitation.

 

So he’d taken Tony’s hesitance and decided that it meant he didn’t want him, because when he self-destructed, he did it in a spectacular fashion that sent shrapnel out in all directions to hurt the ones he loved. And he was just cruel enough to make sure that the shrapnel was aimed at Tony’s heart.

 

.-.-.-.-.-.

 

“Sergeant Stunning reporting for duty,” Bucky said tiredly. He should have taken a cab. “Seeking my civilian sweetheart for snuggles.”

 

There was a click, and then the mechanical whirr of the gate opening. Bucky’s code still worked for the gate. He was so relieved—he’d wondered what he would do if he’d used his code and the gate had stayed firmly shut. He wasn’t entirely certain he could scale the fence. He looked at the long driveway and groaned but started trudging toward the mansion.

 

Bucky tried the latch when he got there, but it was locked. He should have expected that, though. He’d _really_ hurt Tony. Sighing, he pressed the doorbell, then leaned his head against the wall. Maybe he should have slept a little longer, too. Or waited to self-reflect until he got here, so he wasn’t constantly staving off self-induced panic attacks. He was kind of stupid either way.

 

He blinked his eyes open as he heard the door open and turned, heart suddenly in his throat. He’d spent so long thinking about where he’d gone wrong that he hadn’t thought about what he’d say to Tony when he saw him. This seemed like a really bad time to stand there gaping like a fish.

 

Luckily it was an older woman that answered the door. Unluckily, Bucky had never seen her in his _life._

 

“May I help you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

Maybe Tony had hired someone to screen his visitors. “I, uh. I’m looking. For Tony?”

 

The woman stared at him for a long moment before saying, “He isn’t here.”

 

“Oh,” Bucky said. That was both a relief and a disappointment. “When will he be back?”

 

“He didn’t say,” she replied. “To my knowledge, he won’t be.”

 

“What.”

 

The woman sighed quietly, taking on a pitying expression. “Honey, he moved away. He hired me to come shut his house up. You’re lucky you showed up today—I just finished putting sheets over the last of the furniture. I’ll probably be finished by the end of the d—Honey, are you okay?”

 

Bucky had no idea what his face looked like, but he assumed all of the blood had drained from it. “I. I don’t. Know?”

 

“Do you need to sit down?” she asked, opening the door a little wider.

 

Quite honestly, he didn’t want to go into the mansion if Tony wasn’t there. It had always kind of creeped him out, being so big and empty, and now with the reminder of what he’d done and said the last time he’d been here… No, he’d really rather not.

 

“I think… I think I’d better just go,” Bucky said, voice shaking.

 

The woman nodded, frowning. “Can you make it back to the gate by yourself?”

 

“God I hope so.”

 

She gave him a long look. “I’ll keep checking from the window, but please don’t faint. I’m not sure I could lift you.”

 

“Just leave me,” Bucky said.

 

“Oh, honey,” she said with sudden understanding. “I hope things work out for you.”

 

“Me too,” the brunet admitted, then turned and began the long walk back to the gate.

 

Bucky stumbled through it and sat down on the curb, putting his head between his knees. Okay. So Tony had changed his number and completely moved out of his house. That… that was a pretty big setback. Not unmanageable, but still jarring. He felt even worse about the things he’d said and done. Tony had always said he wasn’t fond of the New York mansion because it was way too big for one person, and he had too many memories of his parents whom he’d lost too young. He had much preferred his home in Malibu—

 

Had he gone back to California?

 

Bucky frowned. He’d never really been to the west coast. The closest he’d gotten was Fort Leavenworth, in Kansas. He’d wanted to go, though, when Tony talked about white-sand beaches and warm sun—the water was still cold but with the summer heat, it had felt good. Tony had said he’d take him there someday, get him real tacos and teach him how to surf. He wasn’t sure why the tacos they ate in New York weren’t real but Tony had always been kind of a food snob.

 

He wanted to eat tacos and bask in the sun with Tony.

 

Bucky almost didn’t notice the car that was idling in front of him. He certainly hadn’t heard it pull up or stop. He looked up slowly, brows furrowed together. It was Sam’s car. He was somewhat surprised. He’d kind of expected Steve’s motorcycle.

 

Steve was leaning out of the window, frowning at him in concern. “It didn’t go well?” It stung that the blond wasn’t yelling at him for leaving without a word, or a note, or anything. It felt an awful lot like pity.

 

“He’s not here anymore,” Bucky rasped.

 

“Oh, Bucky,” Steve sighed, still so pitying, and Bucky wanted to punch him in the face.

 

He climbed into the back of Sam’s car and pretended he didn’t want to cry instead.

 

.-.-.-.-.-.

 

“So what are you going to do about it?” Natasha asked bluntly.

 

Natasha was always no-nonsense. He liked that about her.

 

 “I don’t know.” Bucky frowned down at the cup of tea she’d pressed into his hands when they’d arrived home. He didn’t even _like_ tea. “He… he left. So I should respect that, and let him go.”

 

Sam looked up from trying to pour his tea into Steve’s cup without him noticing. “I’m sensing a ‘but’ here.”

 

“…But I don’t want him going through life thinking that it was his fault. Thinking that he did something wrong. He needs to know that this was all on me.”

 

Natasha looked pleased with his answer. “Good.” She slapped a piece of paper onto the table in front of him. “Here’s his address in Malibu. You can borrow my car.”

 

Bucky stared at the piece of paper. “…Why do you have his Malibu address?”

 

“Because he let me vacation there a few months ago when I was bitching about New York winters.” Natasha took a sip of tea. “Just know that if you take my car, if you come back without Tony, it better be because you’re in a casket.”

 

Bucky stared at her. “…When did you start liking Tony more than you liked me?”

 

Her stare was severe. “When you were a dumbass and ruined the best thing you’ve ever had. Go back to therapy, you fucking idiot.”

 

Steve choked on his tea. “You stopped going to therapy?!”

 

“I thought I was okay!” Bucky snapped, flushing with shame and embarrassment. “I hadn’t been—I was doing _fine._ ”

 

Steve looked like he was going to continue, livid, but then Sam was laying a hand on his knee and shaking his head. “Let it go, Steve.”

 

“But he just—”

 

“You haven’t had your arm blown off before getting tortured for days, Steve,” Sam told him harshly. “Just drop it for now.”

 

Steve went pale and looked down at his lap, jaw going tight.

 

Bucky clenched his fingers around his mug of tea and pretended he was surprised when it shattered in his hands.

 

.-.-.-.-.-.

 

Natasha made sure he was well-equipped for the trip. She bought him a car-charger for his phone, provided a small cooler full of juice and energy drinks, and another large cooler full of snacks. She packed a second suitcase for him after sneering at his pitiful bag full of underwear, socks, and three t-shirts. She even left written directions for the shortest route from Brooklyn to Malibu in the front seat.

 

He knew that she wouldn’t actually kill him if he came back without Tony, but sometimes it kind of felt like it.

 

“Call me when you bed down for the night, okay?” Steve ordered, clutching his shoulders hard enough to bruise. “I don’t—I need to know you’re okay.”

 

Bucky nodded solemnly. He knew the only reason Steve wasn’t fighting tooth and nail to get into the car with him was because Sam and Natasha had taken him aside and probably beat it into his head that this was something Bucky had to do alone. “I will.”

 

“I care about you, Buck.”

 

“I know.”

 

“I just—I’ve only ever wanted the best for you.”

 

“I know.”

 

“And I still want good things for you.”

 

“I _know._ ”

 

“Please just—I mean, this is really—”

 

Bucky took a step back. “I’m going to get in the car now.”

 

“Right,” Steve said, but didn’t let go of his shoulders.

 

The brunet stared at him and took another step back. “Steve, you need to let go.”

 

“I—” Steve started, then stopped, and took visible effort to loosen his grip on his friend’s shoulders. “Okay. Sorry.”

 

“Get in the car before he tries to grab you again,” Sam ordered, wrapping an arm around the blond’s shoulders and dragging him back. Telling him good luck without actually having to say it.

 

Natasha lifted her chin. “Don’t crash my car.”

 

His friends were so great.

 

.-.-.-.-.-.

 

Bucky found the house. It was large, clean lines, lots of glass, butting up near the end of a cliff so it had a beautiful view of the ocean. It had no automatic gate, no fence, but it was quite far from any other houses or towns and he got the feeling that the mansion in New York was kind of a decoy for all his fans.

 

Bucky parked the car near the door. He’d spent the last four days going over what he could possibly say and he still had no idea what he was going to start with. Maybe it would be best if he started with ‘I’m a fucking idiot and you deserve better.’

 

His hand shook as he pressed the bell. He was afraid his pass code wouldn’t work—but he was also afraid of stepping into Tony’s haven without permission. He didn’t want to put Tony in a position where he felt unsafe.

 

He almost jumped when the speaker buzzed. _“You can’t kill me, Natasha. Pepper would be upset.”_

 

Bucky gaped at the speaker for a moment, then realized Tony must have had cameras that had seen the car, but not the driver. He shuffled awkwardly, then decided to just throw himself on the other man’s mercy. “Sergeant Stunning reporting for duty. Seeking my civilian sweetheart for snuggles.”

 

There was a long pause. Bucky held his breath. Maybe he should have left the last part out.

 

Then the door opened, just a crack, and he moved in front of it to see one brown doe-eye peeking up at him. Even with only one eye visible, he could see the hesitance and fear in it. And he’d caused that. He wanted to punch himself in the face.

 

“…Bucky?” Tony asked after a moment, when he didn’t say anything.

 

“I came here to tell you that you are perfect,” Bucky blurted out. “And that nothing was your fault. It was all me. It’s all my fault.”

 

Tony stared up at him for a little longer before opening the door wider and stepping aside. “Do you wanna come in?”

 

“Not really,” Bucky admitted, feeling horrible at the hurt expression that crossed the other man’s face. “This is—you’re safe here. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

 

“I don’t want to have a personal discussion where everyone and their grandmother can hear me,” he said after a moment. He turned on his heel and called over his shoulder, “Do you want coffee?”

 

He might actually throw up if he had anything. He was sort of regretting the fruit he ate for breakfast. “No thanks,” he replied, creeping into the house. He took a look around at the open floor plan and made a quiet noise of approval. Yeah. This looked more like a place that Tony would live in instead of the mansion. “I just—wanted to come and apologize.”

 

Tony turned from the counter, hands wrapped around a mug. “Apologize for what?”

 

Bucky frowned. He could tell that the brunet was clutching the mug in his hands to hide how much they were shaking. “For everything. For—for hurting you. For making you think there was something wrong with you. For taking all of my doubts and fears out on you instead of trying to protect you from them.”

 

Tony turned the mug in his hands, looking down at his feet. “I guess… I guess I should apologize, too, for—”

 

“For absolutely _nothing,_ ” Bucky cut in, voice rasping, because only Tony could receive an apology and decide he needed to give one too. “I mean, I wish you’d told me you didn’t like—but I can understand why you didn’t. I just—I wasn’t—I haven’t been going to therapy. Like I should.”

 

Tony’s eyebrows flew up with surprise. “What?”

 

“I thought—I thought I was doing alright,” Bucky admitted, looking down at his feet. “I thought—I’ve been so much better since. Since we met. And there were—there were problems, but I thought, _all_ relationships have problems, so that was fine. But I let my doubts get the best of me, and I hurt you. I should have kept—I just want to be normal. This sounds like excuses,” he added, whipping his head up. He didn’t want to be excusing himself. “They’re not—excuses. They’re reasons. I wanted to give you an explanation, not just—just empty platitudes, just words.”

 

“Buck—” Tony started, frowning at him.

 

“Things were going too well,” Bucky continued, talking over him. “You know—I told you that one of my coping mechanisms is just… ruining things. I got so tired of waiting for something to ruin our relationship that I… I used what you did to ruin it myself. I twisted things around in my head and decided that the reason you never wanted to further our relationship physically was because you were only pretending to want me—that you were straight the entire time and were just curious. That’s… that’s not your fault. This wasn’t about you. It was all on me.”

 

Tony blinked at him, mouth agape.

 

“The problem is—The problem is that I fell too hard for you, too fast, too early,” Bucky added quietly. “I should have waited until I was in a better place to accept a date. I was just so desperate to get back to normal that I didn’t even stop to think about that.” He jumped when he felt hands cupping his cheeks and looked up, swallowing thickly.

 

“You idiot,” Tony murmured, eyes watery. “You could have just _said_ something. I would have been able to explain.”

 

Bucky lifted his hands to cover Tony’s, leaning into his palms with a sigh. “I probably would have found another way to sabotage our relationship.”

 

“It would have helped though,” the smaller man insisted. “I was talking to Rhodey. He said I should have told you, too.” He paused, lips pursed. “I mean he still wants to murder you but he also thought I should have told you about my… preferences… months ago. That I shouldn’t have tried to… to force myself just to make you happy. He said that that would just upset you more.”

 

“Sweetheart,” Bucky choked out. “You do not even have a _fraction_ of an idea of how horrible I felt after Pepper said you were repulsed by sex. All I could think about were the times I’d obviously made you uncomfortable or thought you were shy and realizing that you hated it. It made me wonder if you even liked making out, or getting hickeys, or—or even holding _hands._ ”

 

Tony looked horrified at the thought. “Bucky, I love holding hands with you!”

 

“But you can understand what that sounds like, right?” the taller man said. “Honey, you never told me you didn’t like me grabbing your ass. It clearly made you uncomfortable. And you—you let me grab your _dick._ And you hated it. You panicked, you yelled for me to stop. I feel like a monster.”

 

Tony grabbed his shoulders, letting out a small noise of distress. “I’m sorry, I—I mean, the ass grabbing wasn’t great, but I loved everything else! I loved kissing you!”

 

“I think you would have liked it more if you knew there were no expectations for anything more,” Bucky said quietly.

 

Tony bit his bottom lip and looked down at his feet. “…You’re probably right.”

 

“And it just kills me—knowing that you were willing to try and force yourself just because you thought it’d make me happy.” Bucky lifted a hand and carefully brushed the hair out of Tony’s eyes. “Tony, I never wanted you to feel like you had to force yourself to do something you hated to make me happy.”

 

“I just… so many people have left me because I couldn’t take that last step,” Tony explained softly. “I thought… I thought if I could just put up with it, you’d stay longer than everyone else.”

 

Bucky couldn’t help the sad huff of amusement that escaped him. “Sorry that it backfired on you, doll. I bet that all your past partners were a little more mentally sound, though.”

 

“I dunno,” Tony mumbled. “Maybe someone would have to be crazy to stay with me.”

 

“ _No,_ ” Bucky told him immediately. “Honey, they don’t _deserve_ you.” He gathered the brunet into his arms. “You’re—you’re so _precious._ You’re smart, and handsome, and—and so _generous_. Anyone would be lucky to have you. _I_ was lucky to have had you as long as I did. I wish I could go back in time and kick my own ass because you’re wonderful and I don’t know what you saw in me but I _love you._ ”

 

Tony made a wounded noise. “Still? Even though you know I can’t—that I’ll never want—”

 

“Absolutely,” Bucky cut in, pressing his face into his neck. “Tony, just because you don’t want sex doesn’t mean I’ll stop loving you. Would I be disappointed sometimes? Of course, but just because you don’t want sex doesn’t mean I can’t go in the bathroom and jack off or something.” He paused for a moment, then added, “I’m sure there were times where you got frustrated with my short temper, or my flashbacks, or the days I couldn’t bring myself to leave my apartment. You still loved me though, right?”

 

“Of course,” Tony answered promptly. “You didn’t have any control over those things.” He looked up as the taller man leaned back, frowning when he received a skeptical brow. “What—Oh,” he said softly. “…I’m… I’m not sure there’s a therapy for what I have.”

 

Bucky sighed and lifted a hand to cup his cheek, stroking his thumb over his cheekbone gently. “You don’t _need_ therapy, Tony. You know that LGBTA+ thing that we’re part of?” When the other man nodded earnestly, he couldn’t help a snort. “You’re the A, honey. It stands for asexual.”

 

“No,” Tony said then frowned, brows furrowing together. “…No.”

 

“A sex-repulsed asexual,” Bucky added.

 

“…I—” Tony began, then stopped again. “…I’m not… the only one?”

 

Bucky wanted to just lie down and _die._ “No, honey,” he hurried to assure him, because how long had Tony gone through life thinking he was alone? “ _No._ There are so many people like you! Not—not all of them are sex-repulsed, because it’s different for everyone, but there are definitely people like you.”

 

Tony stared up at him as if he didn’t quite believe him, then let out a stuttering sob and hid his face in his chest.

 

.-.-.-.-.-.

 

Tony poured him a cup of coffee. Bucky let him, because he obviously needed time to compose himself. It wasn’t everyday that a person learned they weren’t a freak of nature and also their ex was a giant fucking mess.

 

“You need to go back to therapy,” he said.

 

Bucky nodded, frowning down at the mug. “I know. I just—thought I could handle it, you know? Guess the next time I think that, I can just remember how I pushed away and ruined the best thing that ever happened to me.”

 

“We can’t get back together until you’ve scheduled your next appointment.”

 

“I’m going to set one up when I get back to New York,” he replied, then realized what the other man had said and whipped his head up to stare at him.

 

Tony stared down at his feet, fussing with the sugar bowl. “You really hurt me, Bucky.”

 

It killed him to say it, but Bucky knew he probably still wasn’t in the greatest place for a relationship. “Then why are you putting yourself in a position where I might hurt you again?”

 

Tony stopped fiddling with the sugar bowl. Instead he started to pace the length of the kitchen. After a few minutes, he stopped and turned back to the other man, jutting his chin out stubbornly. “Because I think I hurt you too. You probably think it’s not the same, but I disagree. I had no idea you’d spent every day since we got together just waiting for our relationship to come crashing down. I can’t imagine the stress and anxiety it put you through. Maybe… maybe it was the same amount of stress and anxiety that I went through worrying about when you decided you couldn’t handle me not being able to have sex with you.”

 

Bucky stared back at him, jaw set with annoyance. When it was put like that, he could see how the two were comparable. Still, Tony had _never_ used Bucky’s weaknesses or failures against him. He’d deliberately taken Tony’s fears and thrown them back in his face. It… it was kind of humbling to know that Tony was willing to give him another chance.

 

“You’re a fucking idiot,” he snapped, instead of doing the nicer thing, like thank him for giving him another chance.

 

Tony scoffed and glared at him. “No one has ever said I wasn’t an idiot, Bucky. You’re the first person that’s said—” He swallowed thickly. “…That’s said I’m normal. That I wasn’t a freak. I know the rumors, that I’ve been around the block, that I’ve dated around. There hasn’t… hasn’t been _one_ other person that gave me a word for it. Some of my relationships ended amicably, but they were far from the norm. Honestly, I actually preferred being accused of being straight over being told I’m a frigid little prude.”

 

Bucky felt white hot with rage. Tony deserved so much better than what he’d gotten. “You’re _perfect,_ Tony.”

 

Tony blushed and scoffed again, hurriedly turning away from him. “No I’m not. Shut up.”

 

“And I think jumping back into the relationship after what I did is a terrible idea.”

 

The smaller man turned back to him, scowling. “Well of course it is, you idiot.”

 

Bucky opened his mouth, ready to argue, then closed it again slowly. “…What?”

 

“I agreed that it’s a terrible idea,” Tony repeated, rolling his eyes. “But then again, so was building Dum-E while I was drunk. So was throwing up on Rhodey’s shoes at MIT. So was asking Pepper if she was on her period despite my good intentions. I am the worst decision maker. And getting back together now is another terrible idea. But all my terrible ideas have seemed to work out pretty well. You just—” He took a deep breath. “…You just need to go back to therapy.”

 

“…I should say no,” Bucky said slowly. He shouldn’t be selfish. Tony… Tony deserved better.

 

“You also should have been in therapy, so.” Tony shrugged, only barely keeping a smug smirk from his face when the other man flinched. “Listen. We’ll have boundaries. I’ll tell you when I don’t like things and you’ll… try not to self-destruct. We’ll work through it.” He paused, reaching down to play with the sugar bowl again. “So long as I’m welcome, I mean. The messages I got… Everyone seemed pretty mad.”

 

Bucky cringed so hard he spilled his coffee over his hands. “I—I told them that you… were just playing with me. Because I’d thought that. When Pepper told us—They didn’t say anything, and I know it’s because they’re worried about me, but… they’re gonna be super pissed off with me when I get back.” He took the towel he was offered and began wiping his hands dry. “They feel bad about it. They want to apologize.”

 

“That’s… comforting,” Tony decided after a moment. Because it was, even if he was a little nervous to face them anyway.

 

Bucky watched Tony begin puttering around the kitchen, pulling out a sleeve of crackers and then a plate of cheese and salami. He looked more at ease here than he had back in that big ugly mansion in New York. “…Tony?”

 

Tony didn’t look up from spreading the perfect amount of brie on his cracker. “Hmm?”

 

“…When I said let’s take the next step in our relationship,” he started, watching as the other man stiffened. “…What did you think I meant?”

 

Tony turned his attention on the ceiling as if it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. “Well. I might. Have thought. That you were suggesting… we move in together?”

 

“Oh,” Bucky said, and then reared back, surprised. “Oh!”

 

“I know what you meant now though,” he added hastily. “That—we’d only been together six months, that was probably too soon—”

 

“I would have,” Bucky blurted out. “You hated living in that mansion on your own.”

 

Tony paused, then glanced up at him again, almost nervously. “You hated the mansion too.”

 

“We could have found a new place. One that both of us liked.” He leaned forward a little. “Do you still want to? We could. It doesn’t even have to be in Brooklyn.”

 

Tony stared at him for another long moment before he said, “I think Pepper and Rhodey might literally kill me _and_ you if we did that. So. No. Let’s not for a while.”

 

Instead of being disappointed, Bucky just felt… relieved. He sagged against the counter, letting out a low sigh. He really did need to get back into therapy.

 

“I think I’ll stay here a few more months anyway,” Tony added. “Let you settle back into therapy. Maybe solve a problem or two without me there to feel like you have to get better faster than you can.”

 

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Oh—Hey, you forgot something when you left.”

 

Tony blinked at him, confused but not surprised. He’d gotten everything out of the mansion, but he’d figured he’d left stuff at Bucky’s apartment. He wondered what it was.

 

Bucky pulled his leather jacket off and swung it around the smaller man’s shoulders. “Suits you better than it ever suited me,” he replied to Tony’s confused and worried sputtering. “Honestly doll, if we can’t work this out and end up breaking up, don’t give this back to me. Just burn it.”

 

Tony gaped at him even as he felt delight bubbling up in his chest. He pulled the jacket around him tightly and buried his nose in the collar. “Smells like you,” he whispered, feeling warm. Feeling wanted. “I missed it.”

 

Bucky smiled a little. “Hopefully it’ll last the few months we’re apart then.”

 

Tony nodded absently, clutching at the leather. Things weren’t perfect, but… he had the feeling they’d be able to work it out. Especially now that he had a word to identify his feelings—or lack thereof. He wished he’d known about it sooner. Maybe Pepper could help him find a support group or something.

 

“…Does Pepper know you came here?” he asked.

 

Bucky scowled at him. “Tony, I’m still alive. So no, she absolutely does _not_ know I’m here.”

 

Tony huddled into the jacket, frowning. Rhodey would be a little more understanding, because he’d seen firsthand what PTSD could do—had even asked after Bucky’s therapy over their relationship. He’d always been somewhat concerned about how Bucky was faring when they were together.

 

Pepper still wanted to murder everyone though. It might be better to ease her back into the idea.

 

Tony grimaced. It actually might be easier to fake everyone’s deaths and move to a private island. Then again, he’d taken his lumps. Maybe it was time everyone else took theirs too.


End file.
